The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1887-10-07
a WOMAN.

'fStop, stop, stop!' laughed Mrs. Blair.
Don't say too much. In the abstract you
know as well as / know that constancy is
a very fine thing"
ooh, in the abstract! I'm not consider
ing that at present. But
eyes and in the concrete, Reverse the
case now, by way OF argument. Imagine
if you yourself were in Captain Lows
place. Suppose that my charming friend
Marion had engaged herself to you"
cit was not an engagement" broke in
Farmley sulkily.
"Well, so near it that one may call it so.
But I'll say an understanding, if You shy
at the other term. Suppose, anyway, that
you had loved her"
81 don't believe the fellow ever loved
her." Farmly again interrupted, pulling
savagely at his mustache. "If he had, do
you suppose he would not have come back
in seven years."
Mrs. Blair tapped him on the shoulder
with her fan.
"You are a very impertinent young man.
Twice you have broken in upon what | was
saying. And you wish me to take an in
terest in your little affairs"
"You are a thousand times in the right
pardon me-" murmured Farmley, contrite-
ly. sThe truth is I am completely demon
allied"
Il was saying, then, suppose that there
had been a tenderness between Marion
Dennison and yon, and that you had gone
away and she had not been able to keep
faithful to you for a few years. Would
You have thought constancy it that case a
far-fetched, finely drawn notion ?'
Farmley chafed silently.
1T is not the same thing" he said, at
last. sBesides, seven years"
sob, it is not?" Mrs. Blair threw her
self back, showing all her still pretty
teeth. "Oh, you men; you are very anus
ing at timesl The truth is, you don't I'M
derstand anything about fidelity; it's an
unknown quantity in yourselves Cor no
quantity at alb, and you can never admire
it in the other sex unless you are person.
ally the object of it,"
so you will not help me with Miss Den
nison ?" Farmley asked, appealingly,
"Well, | won't say that" Mrs. Blair re-
sponded, getting up and walking the
length Of her pretty drawing room. FT
like you, and am dearly fond of Marion.
1 think you are very well suited to each
other, and | really should like to see you
married. Still, if the girl will persist in
cherishing her love for the man who took
her fancy years ago l don't see much that
l can say. In the abstract, | repeat, the
sentiment is admirable and rare, and it
does Marion very great honor"
"Bah! She was only n child when she
met that fellow. Her feeling for him is a
pure chimera, based on a school girls
romantic illusion"
GO dress for dinner, my dear boy, and
put on a fresh humor before you appear
again. Mrs. Blair admonished him, aud
left the room.
Mrs. Blair's house was a delightful one
to visit, and it never was so delightful as
when her guests, always well chosen with
respect to harmony and sympathy of tastes,
were assembled about her W gracious
little person in the large dining room,
whose generous bay window opened upon
the flush of sunset, the long shadows over
the lawn, the glimpse of a curve of shining
river and soft blue ridge of hills beyond.
But this evening the little company was
out of Tune. Marion Dennison looked pale
and grave, Farmley (nice fellow as he was
usually, Mrs. Blair said to herself indig-
nantly) was silent and morose, or only ex-
erted himself out of courtesy to his host
ess.
Greatly, young people are very tiresome
when they fall in love-" thought Mrs.
Blair. "And when are they not falling in
love 2"
After dinner Mrs. Blair gave Farmley
permission to light his cigar, and, taking
Marion Dennison's arm, went out upon the
gravel walk at the back of the house,
where chairs had been placed, and joined
him. The dusk was full of sweet smells
of flowers and heritage, and there was a
pale light abroad, mingling with the fad
ing daylight, and emanating from a yet
unrisen moon.
81 wish you would sing something"
Mrs. Blair said to the girl.
Marion Dennison sang as no one else sang.
She had a low mezzo soprano voice, inf
nitely sweet and clear and thrilling, but
not powerful. 1t had been trained, but
not overturned. She sang as naturally
and as freely as a bird sings, and as effec-
lively and simply without accompaniment as
with one. She had what the French call
tears in her voice. There was an intense
pathos in some of her notes. She was
never more charming than when she sang,
and she was always charming. Mrs. Blair,
as she listened to the liquid notes and
watched the girls delicate, spiritual face,
acknowledged to herself that Ambrose
Farmley's infatuation was not an unrea-
sonable thing. Ambrose Farmley himself,
throwing one arm over the back of his gar
den chair, allowed his cigar to go out, and
pulled at his mustache, with his fine
eyes glowing with resentful passion at his
~enchantress, while she, her head thrown
up a little and her hands clasped loosely